until I wrap myself inside your arms I cannot rest
by zealousfreak27
Summary: Stiles ducks his head uneasily at the scrutiny, a knot in his stomach forming and his skin breaking into a sudden cold sweat. But when he looks back up, Derek is gone. Sterek. Deviates from canon after the first season. M for disturbing themes, not sex.


**AN/ There are quite a few things in this story that could be considered triggering. The tags should clue you in but if you want specifics, check the end notes (warning: there are spoilers down there).** **Canon AU. Stiles and Scott didn't go out in the woods and Scott didn't get bit. Peter bit another kid at a later date, but he died. Inspired by the Youtube video entitled: 'TW: Howl (Possessive!Derek/Stiles)' on You Tube, which stupid fanfiction is not allowing me to link to.  
**

**Okay, so I normally write fluff. And then I had to write something off the above video. And it's kinda disturbing and does not at all portray a healthy relationship. It's also really stylistic. I have a lot to live up to here. Please let me know if it fails. (I've only ever written Stiles in generally comedic stories and I was having a really hard time balancing him with the dark tone of this story.)**

* * *

Obsession creeps upon him, until his thoughts are consumed. Derek knows he had duties as a werewolf, as the last remaining member of his pack. He needs to find the alpha who killed his sister, to deal with the Argents. He can't afford to be distracted. But his fascination with the Sheriff's underage son only grows, until he can't even feel the need to fight it.

It's at Kylie's party that Stiles sees him.

Stiles has had a few drinks; he's feeling a little dizzy, so he leans on one of the pillars and shakes his head a little. When he looks up, Derek Hale is staring at him.

Somehow, he looks different than he did when Dad brought him in for suspicion of murder. It's probably the difference in lighting – the florescent lights of the department made him look unearthly, but the firelight that he's lurking in makes him looks much more attainable, like Stiles could reach out and touch him.

Stiles ducks his head uneasily at the scrutiny, a knot in his stomach forming and his skin breaking into a sudden cold sweat. But when he looks back up, there's no one there.

* * *

It's the scent that caught his attention first. Innocent and clean. The boy smells like he would taste fresh. He could follow the boy for days just to catch a whiff of it. Derek wants to infuse that scent with his own, until they can never be separated.

At first he hadn't thought much of the kid's appearance, but he quickly changed his opinion on that. The moles that he'd originally thought of as flaws now appear to be the perfect targets for bites or licks. His skin reddens easily from embarrassment, and Derek imagines how it would look, flushed from pleasure or pain. He'd be very expressive in bed, if the emotions that march across his face during even menial activities are anything to go by. He's always chewing or liking at something, with his sinful mouth. Eventually, even the boy's flailing and constantly jabbering tongue become attractive.

The best thing about him is his innocence. Derek will be the first to have him. And the last.

* * *

Stiles decides he wasn't seeing things at the party when he notices Derek at lacrosse practice. He even asks Scott if he can see the man as well, and gets a confirmation. He's actually being stalked. It's the most interesting thing that's happened to him in years.

After practice is over, he gets out of his sweaty clothes and showers. Scott's talking to Allison (hopefully finally asking her on a date), so Stiles has time to kill. When he heads out of the locker room towards his jeep, he sees Derek again, in the distance.

"Hey," he yells before he can think it through rationally. Thinking interferes with being insane. He starts running after the leather jacket adorned back. Derek turns to face him, thick eyebrows raised.

Stiles refuses to feel intimidated. "Why have you been following me?" Stiles doesn't know if two instances count as 'following,' but that's just semantics.

"I haven't. We've just happened to be in a lot of the same places." Before Stiles can call bullshit on that, Derek continues, "I'm interested in you. I knew your mother." Immediately, any coherent comeback is replaced with questions.

"Really? How?"

"Our mothers' talked sometimes. She was very nice. I always liked her." He's staring at Stiles intently, probably trying to see similarities between them. Stiles isn't as worried about Derek now. He has a good explanation for why someone like Derek would be interested in him, and anyone who liked his mom can't be all bad. Besides, he'd gotten cleared of the murder charge.

"Yeah, she was, wasn't she?" Stiles smiles a little, and Derek smiles back. It takes Stiles' breath away. It suits him much better than the scowl usually twisting his features.

"Stiles!" Scott yells from across the parking lot. "Come on! I have homework!"

He'd wanted to ask Derek more about his mom, but teenager life calls. "Well, I gotta go. But hey, maybe I'll see you some time!"

He's already started to walk away when he hears, "Yes. Maybe."

* * *

Derek had, in fact, met Mrs. Stilinski years ago. He barely remembers the encounter at all, but it had been the perfect excuse to bring up to Stiles. It trumped any suspicion and gave Derek an easy opening for conversation.

Things had been going very well until that kid, Scott, had interrupted their conversation. He had used his charm to impress, relaxing his body language to seem open and guileless. Stiles' confrontational pose had softened in response. Derek had even smiled, like he would at a girl he was trying to get something from, and heard Stiles' heart speed up.

He watches the blue jeep drive away, feeling jealousy and rage stir in his stomach. Scott had slung an arm around the boy's shoulder. He got to touch Stiles, casually, whenever he felt like it. Derek wants to punish the brat, to warn him off from laying his hand on what belonged to Derek.

But Scott is important to Stiles; they are like packmates, brothers. Derek could tell that from only a week of watching them. His relationship with Stiles has barely started, and to target Scott now meant jeopardizing even that. For the time being, Scott is safe.

* * *

The next day when Stiles goes to the library to study, Derek is sitting in one of the huge green sofas, reading a book.

Stiles feels a little uneasy, but Derek never looks up from his book, even after about five minutes of Stiles wandering around while keeping an eye on him.

Eventually, Stiles just plunks down on the couch next to him, because this is where he normally sits anyway.

Then Derek does look up. He doesn't say anything, just lets his expressive eyebrows speak for him.

"What?" Stiles says defensively. "I'll have you know that this is my spot. You're a spot thief."

Derek begins to rise. "I can move – "

"No!" Stiles interjects, not wanting to inconvenience him. "It's fine. We can be sofa buddies! Being my sofa buddy is an honor, you know."

He winces because that was really lame, but Derek's lips quirk up, and he says, "I'm sure it is."

Stiles feels a little fluttering feeling in his ribcage. It's so rare to find someone who doesn't find him annoying and try to avoid him, and here's this older, cooler guy who isn't running in the opposite direction.

Stiles starts doing his schoolwork, and Derek returns in his book, but Stiles finds it hard to concentrate with the streak of warmth pressing against his side.

After his allotted hour of work, he turns to Derek awkwardly. "Hey, so, I can hear home beckoning. I need to leave. Adios!"

But he doesn't stand up. He feels like he's waiting for something.

Derek smiles at him a little. "Why don't I give you my number?" Stiles blinks, rapidly. "We could talk about your mom sometime," he continues blandly.

In that case… "Okay."

He walks to his jeep with a spring in his step.

* * *

He texts Derek on and off for a few days, asking him a few question about his mom. He's surprised on Saturday when Derek actually calls him.

They mostly small talk for a while. Anytime Stiles asks about Derek's personal life, he just closes off. But he's perfectly willing to let Stiles chatter on about himself. It's like the opposite of every conversation Stiles has had ever.

" – and Scott and I were supposed to see Troll 2 at the Indie theatre today, but he cancelled 'cause the Argents invited him over for dinner, but I can't really blame them because if Lydia – "

"Wait," Derek cuts him off. "Scott's girlfriend is Allison _Argent_?"

"Yeah. Do you know her?"

"No," Derek says in almost a growl. "I know her family."

"Oh." Right, they used to live in Beacon Hills. And Derek grew up here, before… It's so easy to forget things like that. "So, bad history?"

"Shut up." It's not yelled. But Derek's tone is very far from the one he'd had a moment ago, and Stiles draws in a sharp breath. That sounded like a threat.

Silence comes across the line for a few seconds and then he hears Derek sigh deeply. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. You're right. There is a history there. I'd just rather not talk about it."

"Okay."

* * *

Derek wishes that he hadn't gotten so angry with Stiles. He's doing his very best to gain the boy's trust, and he can't afford to have a temper at the moment. Besides, now that he knows about his connection to the Argents, he can use that to the best of its advantage.

It does works to his benefit, because the next day, Stiles mentions that he and Scott are planning on hanging out because Allison is spending time with her Aunt Kate. It was good to know she was coming to town. He made sure to stay away from his family's house, where she might think to look for him, since her family knew he was in town.

In spite the grueling runs looking for the Alpha (who is murdering people) and dodging the Argents (who think he's the alpha), Derek is enjoying every second he spends around Stiles. The boy is a mess of contradictions that Derek could spend years studying. He can be very empathetic, and somehow at the same time very callous. He can be very obtuse, and yet extremely sharp.

Derek's favorite thing about him is his insecurities. They make him malleable, easily lead by just a few compliments.

* * *

Outside his talks with his new friend, the rest Stiles' life is pretty much the same as it always was, complete with shitty days. He was going to meet Derek today, at the library, but Harris had given him detention for no reason and now he was going to be late. To top things off, Jackson shoved him into a locker today, so a nice bruise is probably forming on his cheek. One that he can't wave off to his father as from practice. Which he's missing because Harris is a douche.

After a tedious hour, he grabs his books and gets out of there as fast as he can, intent on getting to the library soon.

But Derek's standing in the parking look, looking angry.

Stiles approaches him warily, only for Derek to grab his shirt and slam him against his jeep. "Where were you?" he snarls in Stiles' face. Stiles stands completely still, frozen in shock, until Derek notices the bruise on his face. "Who did this to you?" he demands angrily.

Stiles manages to stammer out, "Nobody. Just – please – " He feels like he's starting to have a panic attack.

Abruptly, Derek stands back. His face relaxes and he reaches his hand out to caress Stiles' face. "Stiles, it's alright now. Just relax for me. Tell me what happened to you."

He takes a deep breath, and lets out an "Okay."

And Stiles does relax. He trusts Derek when he's being gentle like this. He tells Derek about his shitty day. He goes with him to the library.

He doesn't even dwell on how Derek got to the school when he'd left his camaro at the library, on the other side of town.

* * *

Even through the rage, Derek can see that Stiles being hurt was to his advantage. They wouldn't have had the conversation otherwise, and Derek wouldn't have learned the extent of the power he had over the boy.

But even after spending time with Stiles at the library, Derek is angry. He would have had more time if Harris hadn't given Stiles detention. And how dare anyone leave a bruise on Stiles. They're both going to pay.

The teacher first. He enters the teacher's lounge, where the man is grading papers, already wolfed out, and flips the light switch off. The man starts to splutter something and Derek feels anger, spilling into his chest and burning him.

He roars and tosses a chair at Harris, who whimpers. He tears the room apart, before approaching the man and lifting him up by his shirt. At the last second, his senses return, and he realizes that if he tells the man to leave Stiles alone, this would most likely be blamed on the kid. The last thing he wants if for Stiles to spend even less time with him because he's in trouble for getting someone to destroy school property. With a sigh, Derek drops the man into his chair, leaving him a trembling wreck.

However, the kid he's going to approach in the locker room won't be as much of a problem.

* * *

Well, at least Harris calls in sick the next day, so Stiles doesn't have to see him. Thank heaven for small mercies.

But those mercies don't really make up for the other shit. Like Jackson cornering before lacrosse.

"Whatever that was, Stilinski," the douche says, glance around nervously, "it wasn't funny. I'll leave you alone, I swear, just don't do that again. I mean, what are you even mixed up in? Drugs?"

Stiles blinks, utterly confused. "What? Drugs? I'm on awesomesauce, but seriously, that's all. Dude, what are you even talking about?"

"The psycho you sicced on me!" Jackson says, like it's obvious. "I just roughed you up a little! He threw me into a wall and threatened to hurt me if I ever told anyone. Couldn't you just have gone to your dad and got me slapped on the hand?"

Stiles swallows thickly. "Was this guy about six feet? Wearing leather?"

"Yes." Jackson looks confused now. "Did you… really not ask that guy to talk to me?"

"I didn't," Stiles says, a little shakily.

"I don't know who that guy is, but word of advice? Avoid him. He's crazy."

Stiles should be horrified. It wouldn't surprise him if Derek is the reason Harris didn't show up today. He should be worried, especially after Derek shoving him yesterday, that this means Derek really is a violent criminal. But he's not.

He's flattered. Happy that someone would treat him like he's important. It's so fucked up, but that's how he feels.

And he doesn't take Jackson's advice. He calls Derek later that day, and doesn't bring his conversation with Jackson up.

Doesn't he deserve a little happiness?

* * *

Everything is going fine with Stiles until he finds out that the boy's going to the winter formal with Lydia Martin.

Derek had never been very worried about Lydia before. From what he'd heard from Stiles, she'd never showed the slightest interest in him before. (Of course she wouldn't – the girl was dating that Jackson kid, on-again-off-again. She could hardly have good taste.) But now, she wanted to go to a dance with him, probably in order to spite Jackson after his newest fling.

Stiles wisely hadn't told Derek, and to Stiles' knowledge Derek shouldn't have found out. But Stiles didn't know that Derek spent every free moment following him, listening to the drum beat of his heart.

He can't tolerate this. He can barely share the boy with his father and Scott, and only them because they're his pack.

He doesn't stop Stiles from attending completely, though he dearly wants to. He doubts he that will pass without notice and that he has that much control over Stiles. Yet.

He wants to punish Lydia for going out with Stiles, but if Stiles ever learned about that, it might be difficult to get his forgiveness. He doesn't think it's likely that she'll ever ask Stiles out again, but if she ever shows more interest in him, Derek will inflict real damage. As it is, after she and Stiles leave in the jeep, he contents himself with defacing her car.

But Stiles. Stiles needs a lesson about who he belongs to.

* * *

Even though he did get to dance with Lydia, tonight still sucked. Scott and Allison broke up because her family won't let them see each other (they got caught having sex), and really, Lydia isn't in to him at all. Something just feels wrong all night.

He knows what it is as soon as he finds Derek in his room when he gets home.

Stiles is being shoved against the wall before he even gets the chance to wonder how Derek got into his second story room. Derek is right in his face, growling and snapping. He slams his hands against the wall around Stiles' head, and Stiles shakes.

"Where were you tonight, Stiles?" Derek asks, the softness of his tone at odds with his body language.

Sure that it's useless to lie, Stiles forces out, "I went to the winter formal."

"I didn't know you were going," Derek says, again quietly. "Did you go with someone?"

Stiles feels dizzy, like the room is spinning and only he and Derek are still. "Lydia Martin."

"Hm." Derek leans even closer, until their lips are only centimeters apart. Stiles feels warm breath brush face. "Tell me," Derek murmurs. "Has Lydia ever listened to you talk about your day? Has she ever helped you with homework?"

"No."

"Are you Lydia's?"

Stiles knows where this is going and he doesn't know how to make it stop. He isn't sure he wants to. "No."

Derek's eye flash blue briefly. "You're mine, aren't you?"

Stiles doesn't know what his answer will mean to Derek, but he knows what it means to him. And there's only one answer he can give now. "Yes."

And then Derek's lips are attacking his own.

Stiles has never been kissed, but no one who's ever described it to him said it was like drowning. He's immersed in Derek; his strong arms have moved from the wall to wrap around Stiles' thin body; his legs pin Stiles to the spot. Their groins are pressed together, and Derek grinds down against him. Stiles moans into Derek's mouth, who licks his way further in to Stiles' own, conquering further the already surrendered.

Suddenly, he's being dragged away towards his bed. Rough hands push him down, and Stiles begins to babble but is shut up by Derek's body descending on his own, mouth kissing him fiercely before biting and licking his neck and collar bones. Stiles isn't sure what he would have said - would he have asked it to stop? Does he want this? He can't concentrate on that, and as a hand slips under his belt loop, he finds he doesn't care.

"Stiles! I'm home!" drifts his dad's voice through the house. Derek sits up and curses, but Stiles just stares at the ceiling, shell-shocked.

Derek's staring at him down, gaze burning darkly. Stiles knows this isn't over, even though Derek mutters, "I should probably go."

Stiles nods, feeling numb. Derek turns, pauses, and then turns back. Maintaining eye contact, he lowers his head deliberately, and begins to bite and suck at the juncture between Stiles' neck and shoulder. Stiles bites back a whimper.

Once he's satisfied he's left his mark, Derek walks over to the window, opens it, and then jumps out.

Stiles doesn't go over to the sill to see how Derek gets down. He just sits up and rubs his face, feeling like a shell of himself.

He wonders idly how he's going to face his dad.

* * *

Derek wants to own Stiles' body, to explore places no one else has explored and claim the boy so thoroughly that everyone will know who he belongs to. But he has other things to worry about.

The rouge alpha had apparently bitten a woman in her twenties forcefully a week prior. She's gone feral now; she'd been mentally unbalanced before, and the bite doesn't heal things like that. Derek had wanted to catch her, because she might be able to tell him the identity of the alpha.

Derek had lost track of her in the woods about twenty miles from his childhood home. Then the Argents had showed up and he'd been forced to retreat. They are still under the delusion that he had killed Laura and become the alpha. (They'd still be trying to kill him if they didn't think that, but the extra incentive does not help his chances against them.)

He follows them at hearing distance for him, which dwarfed their range. He curses when they catch the deranged woman. They were sure of whom the alpha was; they have no reason to ask her about it. No reason to keep her alive.

She is dead within a minute.

* * *

The next day, Derek goes back to following Stiles. The boy follows the same pattern as usual for a Sunday; he get up, does homework, plays video games, surfs the web, until he gets bored.

After staring at his phone for a solid five minutes, he sends Derek a text. _how are you doing._ Derek doesn't answer, and eventually Stiles sighs and called Scott.

Derek knows that Scott had been told about them. That they were hanging out sometimes. Scott had voiced some concerns, but trusted his friend's judgment. But now Stiles is telling Scott about their kiss. That was private, something that even pack shouldn't know about. And now Scott is suspicious. Maybe enough to tell an authority.

Derek is going to have to teach Stiles what's appropriate to share with packmates.

* * *

On Monday during lunch, Stiles gets a text from Derek, after not having heard from him since Saturday night. _Meet me at the school's pool at 330._

And he does.

When Stiles enters, Derek is smiling the smile that makes Stiles feel jittery at the floor, holding a basketball in two hands. He looks at Stiles, eyebrows raised, and expression so familiar that it makes his heart ache.

"Stiles," he says softly. "I'm really glad we took the next step in our relationship, but don't you think it would be better if we didn't share with other people?" The nails of his right hand sink into the basketball and air escapes.

Stiles watches the ball deflate with vague interest, only a small part of him processing that what he just saw wasn't possible. He's mostly digesting the fact that Derek is always watching him, and he's not sure if he minds.

"Yeah," he agrees. "I guess people might get the wrong idea or something." Or they might get the exact right idea, he adds in his head.

Derek nods and smiles, and a warm feeling spreads through Stiles' chest.

* * *

Derek takes to watching the Stilinski house at night. He likes being able to hear Stiles' heartbeat, reassuring in its steady rhythm. One night, he sees Stiles watching him back through the window, brow furrowed. They just stare at one another for a solid five minutes, Derek not willing to push Stiles any farther until he has a firmer hold. He's delighted when Stiles opens his window and walks away from it in a clear invitation.

They don't speak to one another. Stiles is lying on his bed, face down, and Derek can't see another invitation in that, so he just toes off his shoes and stretches out on the bed next to Stiles. He listens to the kid's breathing until it evens out and he falls asleep. Derek runs a hand through Stiles' bristly hair, plants a kiss on his forehead, and leaves.

* * *

Mr. Argent's never really talked to Stiles before, so he's surprised when the man visits his house. It's under the guise of needing to see Stiles' father, who's working, for about five seconds before he's shoving Stiles against a wall and demanding to see his phone.

"Why?" Stiles demands right back. "Look, I like Allison, but I literally don't know you at all, so why should I – "

"I know you've been hanging around Derek Hale. I don't know what he's told you, but you're the only way I know of to contact him, and this is a matter of life and death, so – "

"Derek told me he has a bad history with your family. If I'm going to let you use my phone, I'm going to type it myself so I know what you're saying."

"Alright," Argent says, impatiently. Once Stiles has his phone out, he says, "This is Chris Argent. I know what Kate did. The Alpha is your Uncle Peter. Kate is dead."

Stiles feels more and more bewildered. Kate, Allison's aunt, is dead? What did she do? Isn't an alpha the leader of a wolf pack?

Oh.

Within a few seconds, three texts arrive at his phone. _Chris – I know. saw him. lost his trail. make sure he doesnt go after ur daughter._ Then, _Stiles stay in ur house lock the door_ and _it's the full moon tonight._

When Mr. Argent saw the first text, he muttered, "Shit" and ran out of the house after writing down Derek's number and repeating Derek's advice to Stiles.

After he locks the door, Stiles sits down heavily in the kitchen, hands trembling, and takes a moment to think. Werewolves. It makes sense, and Stiles suddenly has to confront everything he's been repressing.

He moves to the couch in the living room and cries until he falls asleep, and dreams of wolves ripping him apart.

When he wakes up, the real world isn't much better He's shaken awake by a tall man, whose sharp face is highlighted from the lamp glow.

Stiles shoots up in fear, backing as far away from the man as he can, who smiles. Stiles swallows and asks, "Derek's uncle, I presume?"

The man chuckles. "The one and only. Peter Hale." His expression hardens. "Let's take a walk."

He grabs Stiles by the elbow and drags him out of his house, all the while questioning why, when his nephew climbs through Stiles' window so frequently, he didn't think to lock them.

"I'm interested in you, Stiles," Peter says, as they walk through the woods. "Derek doesn't like too many people. You seem like a bright young man, but you've let him into your life in such a way…" He sighs. "Human complexity does baffle the mind at times."

His grin turns shark like. "I, however, am a creature of simple needs." And he reaches for Stiles' wrist, grips it firmly, and starts to bring it towards his mouth, ignoring Stiles' protests. His teeth are elongating. His eyes flicker red. Stiles punches out at him ineffectively, and Peter laughs.

While he's distracted by Stiles' poor fighting skills, Stiles manages to rip his arm out of the werewolf's grasp. And he runs.

He can hear Peter following him, still laughing, and he gets faster from the terror. But he still gets tackled to the ground from behind, his face landing in dirt and rocks, breaking skin.

Peter is still laughing a little, softly, like Stiles is a child who's done something amusing. Stiles can feel teeth grazing the back of his neck.

And then suddenly the weight of the body behind him is gone and replaced by snarling noises, and Stiles stumbles to his feet.

Two werewolves are tearing at each other on the forest floor. Both are wolfed out, covered in hair, and one has an arrow sticking out of his back. Stiles finds the source of that soon; Mr. Argent is standing about twenty feet away, taking shots at the werewolf that assumes is Peter every time he gets an open view.

The newly arrived werewolf is Derek.

* * *

Grapple and struggle. Must destroy. Must win.

He should not be winning this fight but the hunter is shooting the alpha full of arrows. They couldn't do permanent damage because they don't smell of wolfsbane, but they are more than enough to slow down Derek's opponent.

He dodges a blow aimed for his solar plexus and kicks out the alpha's legs from under him, and then quickly pins him to the ground. Only then does he allow himself to remember that this alpha is his uncle, who looks up at him with familiar eyes.

Derek, who'd just been so intent on killing, suddenly felt sick. But Peter had killed Laura, had tried to take Stiles from him.

So Derek rips his throat out.

When he looks up, he can see Stiles in the distance, running towards his house. Derek will get him back later.

The hunter regards him warily, but he has no quarrel with the man anymore. He just wants packfamilyhome. He wants what's his.

His eyes glow red. "I'm the alpha now."

* * *

When he gets back to his house, Stiles locks the door again. Once he gets up to his room, he hesitates over the window before leaving it open. He crosses over to his computer and just searches 'lycanthropy.'

Now that he's accepted the supernatural, he wants to learn everything about it he can. Researching is infinitely easier than dwelling on the clusterfuck of his life for the past few months.

After reading the Wikipedia page on werewolf legend, he starts reading about wolf pack dynamics (and takes a few seconds to feel sorry for omegas).

He's reading through the lore on silver bullets when he hears Derek climbing through his window.

Stiles glances at him out of the corner of his eye. His clothes are splattered with blood and he's missing a shoe. He's tracked dirt into Stiles' room.

Stiles looks back at his computer screen, the words looking like a meaningless blur now.

"I know what you are." He doesn't know why, but he feels like it's important to say. He stands up and turns around in time to see Derek nod.

But then Derek is walking closer to him, grabbing a hold of his face. Stiles almost tries to bat his hands away but thinks better of it. Derek brushes something off his face, and he realizes vaguely that he didn't wash the dirt and blood away. It's throbbing a little.

"You're so fragile," Derek says, almost marveling. "So… breakable." He presses a kiss into Stiles' hair. "I bet you didn't like that," Derek continues. "Feeling so powerless and afraid." Stiles doesn't comment that Derek has been making him feel like that for as long as they've known each other. He's too busy focusing on Derek's thumb making circles on the soft skin of his throat.

The werewolf's eyes flicker red, and an unpleasant shiver travels up Stiles' spin. "I could make that go away."

"Make – " Stiles stumbles, "make me a werewolf?"

"Yes. Make you mine. Okay?" Derek's voice is deepening, his claws extending, and Stiles is just too tired of being scared.

"No, Derek." And Stiles' voice is still gentle, unable to bear the thought of being harsh with him. "I don't want to be like you."

Derek draws back sharply, his features becoming more wolf-like. "You're lying," he says with utter conviction, and lunges.

Fangs sink into Stiles' shoulder, close to the spot were Derek gave him a hicky weeks ago. Derek pulls out just as quickly, hands running over the now weeping wound.

Stiles gasps in pain, but Derek lowers him to the ground, whispering soothing words in his ears. They'll be together forever now. Stiles doesn't have to be afraid; Derek will take care of him.

But Stiles is struggling to keep his eyes open through the pain, and the words that he's believed for months sound hollow. Everything is moving farther and farther away from him, and somehow he can see things more clearly because of it.

And Derek's whispered words become more urgent, but Stiles closes his eyes to rest.

* * *

**Possible trigger warnings: Derek's having sexual thoughts about a teenager throughout the entire fic. He tries to manipulate Stiles into a relationship and sex (no sex occurs in this story, though there is a kiss was leading up to sex, but it is interrupted). He objectifies Stiles and doesn't respect boundaries or privacy. He's very possessive and controlling. Stiles is somewhat aware of all of this and doesn't attempt to stop it. There are definitely shades of abuse, although no overt violence. THIS IS A FUCKED UP RELATIONSHIP. DO NOT READ IF THAT WILL BOTHER YOU.**

**So yeah. This is pretty different than canon. I pretty much just shouted "I can make up BS!" and had Stiles go to an OC's party so I could have the beginning be the same as the video's. And I guess Lydia still made out with Scott, despite him not being a werewolf so Allison could still guilt trip her? Stuff like that. This is fanfiction, where I am God. If I want to never mention Derek's history with Kate in regards to Derek seducing a minor, I can!**

**Also, about the video, this story is more my interpretation of what happens in it. I figured that to keep the most elements from the video it'd have to be a canon AU. And since Derek isn't an Alpha until he kills Peter, I didn't introduce Isaac at all. Sorry about that…** **I hope it does the video justice! I had a really hard time with the ending of the story and it's a bit different than the one in the video, so I want any feedback. Does it work?** **I'd really love any opinions on this story. I had a really hard time getting across the tone and mood and how scary this relationship is.**


End file.
